Rematch
by Glitch3d
Summary: The Imposter won't let Dan go; memories of him and what he did plague him at every turn. In a moment of weakness, the Imposter once again delves into Dan's history to discover the best way to take him down. But, soon after the plan is set in motion, it becomes clear why the Imposter obsesses over him- but is it too late to take it all back? Which will win: love or revenge?
1. Chapter 1- Rekindled Obsessions

**A/N-**This fanfiction is based on the headcanon that Dan is bisexual. (This is evidenced by his comments about Colby in Dan Vs. the Family Camping Trip and of course he has dated a few girls.) This fic maintains his preference with girls, implying reluctant and gradual openness with guys.

**_Warning: Some parts of this fanfiction may include sexual references ranging in intensity from mild to strong and mild cursing. I will put an author's note before each chapter, warning of such content._**

Anything in _italics_ that's not in quotes is a thought going on inside the character's head. Any italics used within quotes is either writing or emphasis used on certain words. Just thought I'd clarify on that before you guys began reading, because all three things are used in the story.

* * *

**Chapter 1- Rekindled Obsessions**

**4:12 PM December 10th**

The clock strikes 4, the end of the day has come. Another restless day at work, another day of plaguing memories concludes.

Mind numb and voice hoarse from repetitive phone calls to catalogued numbers, work uniform disheveled, a lone employee walks out of the telemarketers' H.Q., the last one to leave. His shoulders are slumped, his baby blue eyes are downcast and tired, his shaggy black hair is a mess, his tie is loose, and the motion is almost automatic as he takes a seat in his dependable '85 Chevrolet Scottsdale. Turning the key to the ignition, and driving slowly on a back road, he arrives at his apartment, gets out of his truck, and walks inside with a distracted air hanging about his shoulders.

Unlocking the door to the apartment, he takes a bored glance around himself at the semi-barren walls before taking off his tie, putting it on the countertop, pouring himself a glass of tea, and sitting on his couch. He twiddled his thumbs and shifted uncomfortably before finding a good place to rest.

Head on the armrest, facing the ceiling, his arms crossed over his chest, he frowned and his forehead wrinkled up. He stayed like this for a couple moments before he got up and paced around the room, deep in thought. He paused momentarily to glance at himself in the mirror, as if searching for a hint of an answer to the questions buzzing in the back of his mind. He took in his rounded nose, chiseled jawline, clean-shaven cheeks, and flawlessly maintained goatee without a second thought, and kept pacing.

After a hundred or so laps, he gave in to the feelings and memories on his mind and took a seat once again on the couch. He pulled out a black ink pen from his shirt pocket, and an old journal which had been stashed in an abandoned cubbyhole underneath the coffee table. Opening the book to a new page, he began to write.

"_**12-10** I don't know why, but I've been on a razor's edge all week. My thoughts have been muddled, nothing is clear. My brain is jumbling everything up, and I can't seem to think straight at all. I've been pacing the room for hours now, trying to get thoughts sorted out in my head. Nothing seems to work, so maybe writing about it will help clear it up for me._

_I don't know what it is about Dan, but for some reason I've not been able to get him out of my mind. It's been four months since I last saw him, since we last had our little talk about vengeance and 'letting things go'. Even now, months later, I still can't get him out of my mind, no matter how much I insist that I had forgiven him and moved on. Guess my lies are finally catching up to me. It seems like wherever I go- there he is- or so I think. It always turns out to be someone else.._

_I think that what I'm feeling is the need for further revenge, business left unfinished calling my name. I'm seriously tempted to dive into the inheritance my father had left me when he died around this time a few years ago, like I had when I bought the radio transmitter I used on Dan's tooth (fun times), and use the money to do some digging around of my own. Learn more about that angry little man than what I already know, (if there's anything I haven't learned by now) and discover what makes him tick, find out once and for all what his weakness is. Because, if insanity isn't what does him in, maybe there's something I'm missing._

_I think I will look into this sometime in the coming week. An idea is rapidly taking shape in my mind. But, alas, I have work tomorrow, and the clock says 9:47; I've got to go to bed if I'm to be on time. A telemarketer's work is never done.~_"

With this concluding sentence, he shut the book and got up from his place at the couch. He placed the pen alongside his tie, which was still resting on the countertop, and he put the journal back in its rightful cubbyhole underneath the living room table. Yawning and stretching, he then walked into his bedroom, and picked out a clean pair of boxer briefs, and a t-shirt. Tucking his clothes underneath one arm, he walked into the bathroom, and withdrew a towel from a cabinet hanging above the toilet. He flicked on a heater which was plugged into the wall, so the room wouldn't be freezing once he got out of the shower.

Standing there a moment, he sighs deeply and then begins to undress. His clothes fell onto the floor and he stepped into the shower, allowing the hot water to pour gently down his tired back.

* * *

Ten miles away, in Los Angeles, a man in his late twenties is laying on the couch in his run-down apartment. The floor and walls are littered with the debris of past escapades, junk food wrappers, stains, and odd discarded bits of garbage. The various posters pinned to the walls are in deteriorating condition and a stack of Shakespeare books in the corner of the room is surprisingly well maintained, despite their surroundings, a small touch of class to an otherwise repulsive habitation. Whatever sparse furnishings remaining in the room are surprisingly steadfast amidst the wreckage and disarray.

The man's hand is draped across the shabby grey kitten sitting in his lap, and he's got a content look written upon his face- almost a smile- a rare thing indeed considering his record and reputation. His shirt, the one he seems to wear every day, was black and had the word, "jerk" written in white on the chest in bold capital letters. Only his favorite pair of blue and red striped boxers is concealing his lower body. His legs and face are slightly unshaven.

His eyelids are drooping slightly with the late hour, and his shaggy black hair and goatee are looking particularly unkempt as his emerald green eyes flick lazily back and forth from the objects on the screen.

"9:56, Mr. Mumbles," he says as he got up from his place on the couch, the kitten safely tucked under one arm, "You know what that means; time for some sleep." He smiled down at the kitten's half-awake mew, and he picked up the remote, turned off the TV, and walked into his bedroom the next room over and put her down next to his pillow where she curled up into a little ball and was soon fast asleep.

He walked into the bathroom, peering into the mirror at his face, smirking in approval at what he sees. His pointed nose, slight stubble, messy goatee, and chiseled jaw appeared the same as they always had to him; he hadn't expected to see anything different. Disregarding his reflection, he picked up his toothbrush and brushed his teeth. He spits, washes his mouth out, and flicks off the light before walking off to bed.

He hears the kitten's purring from the bedroom's doorway, and he can't help but smile a little as he got in bed next to her sleeping figure. He stroked her silky yet somehow messy looking fur, sighing contentedly as her purrs increased slightly in volume.

Pulling the tattered blankets up around his tired shoulders, and settling deeper into the bed, he stared at the wall for a little while, thinking about how near the holidays are, thinking about what to get Mr. Mumbles for Christmas, the same way he did every year.

But, soon, his thoughts wandered and he began to think about spending the holidays alone. Sure, he's a one man show, he thought, but after what had happened with Hortense- his past lover- he realized how much he missed having someone there for him. How nice would it be, just once, to have someone understand and support him the way she had around this time of the year?

His thoughts meandered farther south. _The Imposter understood me.. But I don't want to see or hear from that jerkface again. I had enough after the first two times.._ He shakes his head slightly, pushing the thought deeper into his subconscious. With his eyelids growing heavier by the minute, he soon spiraled into a deep, restful sleep, his last thoughts, as he lost consciousness, about that devilishly handsome impersonator.


	2. Chapter 2- Course of Action

**A/N-** The name I chose for the Imposter is a play-off of the male anon name 'John Doe'. Besides, in his past identity (mentioned in Dan Vs. Dan) the Imposter was a baker. I think the last name 'Doe*' (even though it's spelled like the female deer) would be a good reference to his past occupation. His voice actor's first name is also John.

However, if you don't like the name I chose for him, you're more than welcome to supplement your own preference wherever you wish.

*_Please note his last name isn't really "Doe" and will probably remain unmentioned from henceforth._

* * *

**Chapter 2- Course of action**

**7:03 AM December 11th**

7 o'clock. The alarm clock sitting on the telemarketer's nightstand buzzed dutifully, only to be silenced within the minute. Yawning and stretching, the Imposter sat up and looked around himself. He's got a faint smile on his face, with his eyes half-lidded. The sun shining through the clouds outside cast a pale blue-ish light upon his bed through the cracks in the blind. He threw his feet over the edge of the bed, tossing aside his comforter somewhat begrudgingly in the process, and he cracked the blinds open farther still, allowing the light from early morning to pour into his room and illuminate everything it wished. Treading lightly on the cool hardwood flooring beneath his feet, he sauntered to the closet and withdrew a starchy, short-sleeved blue dress shirt, a white undershirt, a pair of socks, and jeans and laid them on the bed. He walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen to retrieve his tie.

Once there, he stared almost questioningly at where he had placed his pen the night before. It had been placed there absentmindedly because he had written in his journal late yesterday evening. He stood there for a moment, racking his brain for a recollection of what he had recorded, and it occurred to him that he had penciled in his plans for fresh revenge the previous night. He smirked to himself and filled the coffee pot with water, turned it on, and put in a filter and coffee grounds. While he waited for it to brew, he took the tie back into his room, and prepared to get dressed.

Walking into his bedroom, he sat upon the edge of his bed, and he slipped off his nightshirt only to replace it with his starched business shirt. He put on his pants over his boxers, threaded his belt through the belt loops on his jeans, and buckled it securely in place, before he strolled over to his bathroom. Once there, he grabbed a comb from a cup in his cabinet, wet it under the water, and ran it through his hair until all the water had been dried off and his hair appeared at least relatively neat. He ran a hand through it, smoothing it down, tying his tie while studying his reflection in the mirror.

Putting down the comb, he walked out of his bathroom and into the kitchen. Once there, he grabbed a box of sweetened corn flakes from the cabinet and a carton of milk from the fridge and poured himself a bowl of cereal before he sat down on the couch. He took a bite of cereal, allowing thoughts to turn around and around in his head as he chewed, thinking about what to say to Dan when he resumed contact with him.

The coffee machine beeped, and he got up from his place on the couch, pouring himself a cup. He added a generous amount of creamer and sugar, stirring them into the dark brown liquid, before he walked back to his previous place on the couch and sat back down.

He began a mental plan of action, thinking about what would least implicate himself. He took a deep swig of his coffee, his sides shaking with nervousness at the dangerous waters he was about to enter. He got up from his place on the couch to pour out his cereal in the sink and fill the bowl with water.

He walked to the bathroom, picking up his toothbrush, applying toothpaste and wetting it in the sink, before brushing his teeth. He spits, rinses his mouth out, turned out the lights, and walked back to his bedroom. Once there, he grabbed his name tag from his dresser. Upon it, his real name was etched into the plastic. It glinted in the light as he pinned it to his breast pocket.

Grabbing his keys, he downed the rest of his coffee, locked up his apartment, and walked outside into the brisk mid-morning air. He checked his watch; it read 7:49. Getting into his truck, he began the drive to his workplace. Upon his arrival, he parked the truck in his reserved parking place and strolled casually into the building with his employee card on a lanyard hanging from his neck. _Good thing I've got all day to sort this out,_ he thought to himself as he walked to the elevator and pressed the button. Stepping inside, he rode to the fourth floor and sat down in his office cubicle, a virtual copy of all the others around him since he took down the "Wanted Dead or Alive" posters hanging up. Now, the walls are barren. He dons his headset, which he had left to charge overnight, and made the first call of the day.

* * *

**10:24 AM**

Back at Dan's apartment, a few hours later, Dan yawns and sits up straight in bed, Mr. Mumbles still in her place beside his pillow. He stroked her side gently with the back of his hand, playing with her silken fur for a moment, and listening to her purring as she slowly blinked awake.

He rubbed his eyes and threw aside the covers as he hung his feet over the side of the bed. He frowned at the loud noises of the garbage truck outside his apartment as it made its meandering journey down the street, and heaved himself out of bed, stepping on a half-eaten taco lying on his bedroom floor in the process. He cursed under his breath to himself as he walked out of his bedroom and into the bathroom to clean up. Today wasn't off to a very good start.

He sat on the couch and flicked on the TV, scanning the channels for his idea of 'quality programming', mostly finding Christmas-y movies and holiday themed shows. He reluctantly settled on _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_.

He made a mental note to self to call Chris later that day to see about getting some money for Mr. Mumbles's Christmas present and maybe going out for lunch. What the present would be this year, be it a cat toy or wad of catnip, he didn't know. But he was sure he'd find it at the pet store downtown.

Mr. Mumbles jumped into his lap and settled down once again for a light nap. He smiled down at her and wound his fingers through her fur, "You excited for Christmas, Mr. Mumbles?". She meowed. "Well, don't be looking forward to something big this year, I doubt Chris would let me buy you another $200 cat food cake like I did for your birthday." He snickered knowingly to himself, and turned back to the television, awaiting lunch time.


	3. Chapter 3- Lies

**A/N**- Kind of a filler chapter..

* * *

**Chapter 3- Lies**

**12:00 PM December 11th** Noontime rolls around, and John is released for his hour-long lunch break. He puts down his headset, turning it off, and got up from his chair. He smoothed down his hair as he walked to the elevator. When he reaches the ground floor, he walked out the front door and to the Subway restaurant next door. There, he bought his usual turkey and cheese 'footlong' sub and sat down at a table by the window with a glass of sweet tea.

Taking out a notepad he had brought with him, and his ink pen, he began to scribble some notes about Dan; plotting out how to best resume contact with him and destroy him in the most satisfyingly cruel way.

"_**12-11**__- Weaknesses include lactose intolerance, excessive sensitivity, brashness, and over compassion for those he cares about. Based on his weaknesses, the most effective method of taking him down is a three step process:_

1. Befriend him, earn his trust.

2. Then, when he comes to rely almost completely on me, cut all ties when he's most in need of my help.

3. Rejoice.

"

_But how,_ he thought, putting down his pen, _do I start explaining myself away?_ He took a bite of his sandwich, chewing slowly, letting the thoughts collect like condensation and roll off his shoulders. _I think I'll call him when I get off of work, today. What I'll say, I don't know, I'll just have to make it up as I go along.._ His thought trailed off as he finished his mouthful, took another bite of his sandwich, and a swig of his tea. He left the notepad open on the table, his pen lying beside it, studying his plans with a critical eye as he continued nibbling at his lunch.

* * *

**12:06 PM**

"Hello, Chris, come pick me up," Dan says, speaking exasperatedly into his phone, "I'm hungry."

On the other line, Chris replies, "It's nice to hear from you too, Dan, but I'm a bit busy right now. Elise and I are-"

"I don't care what kind of 'couple stuff' you two are doing, it's nothing compared to our 'best friend stuff', so get your butt over here right now!"

"You don't get it do you, Dan-" Chris begins, "I'm telling you, we're driving to Subway already and we're almost there. I can't just turn around now and come get you."

"But.. I'm hungry.."

"Well, Dan, you'll just have to be hungry for a little while. At least, until Elise and I are done with our lunch."

"Some friend-"

"Goodbye, Dan." With that final phrase, Chris hangs up the phone before Dan can begin his rant.

Putting his cellphone away, he returns his attention to the road. Elise turns to him, "That was Dan, wasn't it?"

"What was your first clue, Elise, the fact that I had mentioned his name repeatedly?" At her glare of disapproval, he quickly corrected his tone, "Yes, it was Dan. He wanted me to go pick him up and take him to lunch, and I refused because we're almost to Reseda."

"I don't get why we have to go to the Subway ten miles away. Why couldn't we have gone to the one in town?"

"I wasn't aware there was one in town.." he trails off, feeling rather stupid. "Oh well, we're less than a mile away, we can't just turn around now. Besides, the drive wasn't that long."

He pulls into the parking lot of Subway and he and Elise get out of their car and walk inside. Once within the restaurant, they are immediately greeted with smells of meat, various peppers, sauces, and bread baking in the ovens. Elise finds a good table to sit at, and grabs a small stack of napkins from the dispenser. Chris takes his place in line.

John hears the door to the restaurant open, and he looks up. He sees Chris and Elise enter the room, and he puts the notepad away, and his pen back into his shirt pocket. "Well, well, if it isn't my favorite two people."

At his words, both Chris and Elise turn around. John waves at them, and when Chris receives their order, they come and sit with him in the booth he had reserved. "So," he begins, "What brings you to Reseda?"

"Chris didn't know there was a Subway in town." Elise says, laying out the food Chris had bought on the table.

"I see." John fidgets for a moment with his chips, before he puts down his sandwich and crosses his arms in front of him, with his elbows resting on the tabletop. He paused, collecting his thoughts, before he dived right into his Q&A he had prepared. "Umm.. I've got to ask you guys something. It's kind of random for me to do this, I know.. But, I need to ask some things about Dan." He continued, "I.. I've been feeling rather guilty about how I treated him." He paused for a moment, "Even though the last time I had seen him was four months ago, I'm still rapt with guilt. I just want to start over, start a new chapter. I don't want him, or you guys for that matter, hating me. I just want us to all put our past differences aside."

Chris continues eating, watching how the situation would unfold, whereas Elise jumped right into asking questions of her own, "What do you want to know, exactly?"

"First of all," he took a bite of his sandwich, chewed, and swallowed, "I don't want Dan thinking we're conspiring against him, so please don't mention you talked to me. Secondly, tell me, what do you think the best way to apologize to him is?"

Elise took a bite of her sandwich and Chris jumped into the conversation, "Why don't you call him? Explain you'd like to turn over a new leaf, and maybe ask if you could come over to his house in person to tell him how sorry you are?"

"You really think that would work with someone like _Dan_?" He took another bite of his sandwich.

"It's worth a shot. It's all I can think of."

"Ok.. And.. I was wondering, does Dan have any other friends besides you, Chris?"

"Well, there was this one guy Dan used to be good friends with, Ted, but they've not talked in a while. Dan's had a few girlfriends, too."

"Ok, that's all I needed to know, Thanks." He swallowed and took a drink of his sweet tea, and ate a few of his dried apple chips. "I think I'm going to call him after work today and see if I can make amends."

Chris frowned, swallowing his food, "Well, the best of luck to you, Dan can be a handful; you'll need all the luck you can get."

With an all knowing smirk John replies, "Oh, trust me, I know."

The group of friends eats in silence for about ten more minutes, casual conversation at a lull, before John gets up, and straightens his tie. "I'd love to stay, but I've got to get back to work. It's 12:42, afterall." As he turns to throw his trash into the garbage, and walk out of the restaurant, he waved goodbye. "See you guys sometime soon."

* * *

**4:05 PM**

Several hours later, Dan is still sitting at home, Mr. Mumbles still draped across his lap. But, instead of watching TV, he's now reading _Julius Caesar_ for the umpteenth time. His stomach grumbles, and he clenches it, "Stupid Chris, promising me lunch and not delivering.."

His cellphone rings. "On that note, I bet that's him.." He picks it up from his place beside him on the couch and answered the call, "Hello?"

"Hello, Dan."

At the sound of that all too familiar voice, Dan leaps up from his place on the couch, sending the book flying to his left and Mr. Mumbles leaping to the right. "YOU!? What do you want!?" He yells into his phone, his knuckles white for the way he was gripping it.

"Settle down there, man-cookie." John says, on the other line, his voice betraying his slight nervousness. "I'm calling for a little chat about something that's been on my mind lately.."

"Well, you'd better get started before I hang up on you."

"Oh, er, right.. I've been thinking.. Dan, I'm sorry about what I did to you and your friends the last time we had talked. I want you to know, I've put my past ways behind me. I want to make amends, and I don't want us to be enemies anymore."

"Ah huh, what makes you think I'll just believe you right off the bat?"

"Well, what do I have to do to convince you I've changed?"

"Answer my questions and then I'll name my terms."

John sighs, letting his arm fall from its position in exasperation, but he soon returns it to his ear and he replies to Dan in the most patient tone he can muster, "Ok, shoot."

Dan takes a breath, "Alright, first, have you given up identity theft?"

"Yes, I've readopted my original name."

"Ok.. Secondly: what's your angle?"

"Angle?" John took a shaky breath through his mouth; he quickly resumes his sentence in the steadiest voice he could manage. "I have no angle. I just feel like you and I could be good friends if we tried." His voice steadies, and his confidence level grew, "And I liked getting to know you, Chris, and Elise when we last were in contact. You guys are the closest things I have to friends."

"Well," Dan pauses a moment, letting John's words sink in. His stomach rumbles, having not been fed all day, and Dan gets an idea, "Ok. Here's my terms, take me to dinner tonight and we'll talk this out."

"Um, ok, sure. What time should I come get you?"

"6. See you then."

With this, Dan and John both simultaneously hang up. Dan with a confused and distrusting attitude, and John with a shaky and nervous one. Both don't know that after this evening's dinner, there was no going back.


	4. Chapter 4- Small Talk and Indecision

**Chapter 4- Small talk and Indecision**

**5:43 PM December 11th**

Six PM rolls around, and John is in his bedroom staring at himself in the mirror, making sure he looks presentable. He runs a comb through his hair, his hand shaking slightly. He breathed deeply, steeling his nerves, and prepared his bullshit speech about 'change' and 'moving on from the past'. He grabbed his car keys. Smiling at himself in the mirror before walking out of the room, he does his best to maintain his facade of confidence.

Walking out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, he falters. He braced himself on the countertop, staring warily at the door. _God, what am I going to say to him?_ He swayed slightly on his feet and sighed, _Play it cool, put your game face on.._ With his final thoughts of self-encouragement, he once again picked up his truck keys and walked out of his apartment. Dragging his feet on the way to his vehicle, he delayed the danger for as long as he could, postponing the critical judgement surely headed his way.

Meanwhile, Dan is on the phone with Chris. "What's his angle? I mean, I haven't seen the guy in months and suddenly he calls me up out of the clear blue offering to buy me dinner, 'talk things out', and 'make amends'! Something's not right here, I swear on it." He's sitting on the couch, not wearing any pants, waiting for John's arrival. Mr. Mumbles is on the couch beside him, watching Animal Planet on TV.

"I don't know, Dan. I didn't know he was in contact with you again," he lies. "But it sounds like he's serious. Why don't you give him a chance? He's a nice guy from what I could tell."

"Ah huh. You're just saying that because he baked you a _stupid_ pie that one time."

"Hey! Strawberry rhubarb isn't stupid!"

Headlights flash outside his window and illuminate the room with a whitish-yellow light, and the rumble of an old truck engine purred its mechanical rhythm outside the complex. "Irrelevant; he's here now, Chris. So, I'll talk to you later." Dan hangs up the phone, flicks off the tv, and begins struggling to pull up his pants. Before he's done, someone knocks at the door. He pulls his pants up as much as he could, zipped his fly, and opened the door to reveal a dapper-looking familiar face.

John wore his usual telemarketer's attire, a starchy blue business shirt, a brown and maroon striped tie, blue jeans, and boots. His headset was nowhere to be seen. "So, Dan, you ready?" He smiles, putting up his practiced facade of confidence. "Where would you like to go?"

Dan smoothed down his hair with his hand, a bored 'let's get this over with' kind of look written on his face, "I'm thinking Burgerphile for dinner and after that maybe some of Ninja Dave's cookies."

"Sounds good." He paused for a moment before continuing, "I think I saw a restaurant called 'Ninja Dave's' on the way over here. I've never been in there though, so you're going to have to help me with the ordering." With that, he walks down the concrete steps outside Dan's apartment and to his truck. Getting into the driver seat, he unlocked the passenger side door for Dan. Once Dan was safely inside the vehicle, he shifted into reverse and backed out of the parking spot, corrected the vehicle's direction, and began the drive to Burgerphile.

Slouching in his chair, Dan crossed his arms over his chest, and glanced over at his former imposter, his eyes narrowed, "This better not be another one of your tricks, I took valuable time out of my evening watching movies with Mr. Mumbles for you and your little 'feelings' adventure." He paused, grumpily glancing off to the Los Angeles skyline, "You'd better not disappoint."

"Oh, trust me; you'll know if it's one of my tricks, Dan." John turns slightly towards him, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, as he turned a corner, "I can assure you, I've turned my life around." He turns back to the road, reciting the speech he had prepared, "Ive got a great job with good wages, a nice apartment, but the only thing I'm missing is friends. So that's where you, Elise, and Chris are going to come in." He smirks.

Dan sits up slightly straighter, keeping his arms crossed and his eyes lazily focused on the skyline, "Is this whole 'friendship' nonsense really all you wanted? Hrmmph. Maybe I'd be a bit more open to that if you_ hadn't tried to make me go insane_ the last time we talked." Dan turns to him, annoyance and bitterness in his eyes, "I mean, that six months in jail is what you get for trying to steal my identity." He shrugs.

John rolls his eyes, "Same old Dan." He laughs slightly, "But, come on, I told you I was sorry. I realize now, after all the things I had done, I was wrong for the way I treated you." At that, he arrives at the parking lot of Burgerphile, and he turns off the truck, taking the key out of the ignition.

He unlocks the door for Dan who stumbles out of the truck somewhat ungracefully. "Chris's car is much nearer to the ground." He steadies himself, pausing for a moment before he continued, "You're a better driver, too, you got that much going for you." He frowns slightly, thinking to himself, _I can't believe I got myself into this.._

He shrugged in reply, "Thanks. It's called 'driver's ed.'" He smirked and led the way into the restaurant, taking his place in line while Dan stole away into a nearby booth. John turns to him, "What do you want, Dan?"

"Hamburger. _No cheese_. No ketchup, no lettuce, no tomato. Just the meat and the bun." He pauses a moment, and then adds, with a bored expression on his face, "I swear, if there's a single _square_ of cheese on my sandwich, I will burn this place to the ground."

"Oh-kay, then." John smirks, slightly amused at Dan's peculiar order, and returns his attention to the line. Once it was his turn, he placed Dan's order first, and follows it up with his own. He waited patiently in place, paying the cashier behind the counter. Once it came out of the kitchen, he picked it up and returned to the booth Dan had chosen.

Dan picked up his hamburger, unwrapped it, and examined it for the slightest wrongdoing in his order. Satisfied it was as he had specified, he took several big bites out of it, hardly chewing before he swallowed.

John picks up his own sandwich and begins unwrapping it, a note of amusement in his voice as he speaks, "You didn't eat at all today, did you?"

Speaking around his food, and looking up as he took a fry from the tray John had brought, Dan replied, "No.. Whats-it-to-ya?"

John shrugs, hardly surprised. "No wonder you agreed to come."

Dan swallows, "You don't look a gift horse in the mouth, you know. I'll take what I can get when I can get it, even if it means eating with someone I dislike." Dan smirks, turning his nose up slightly, and returned to eating his food, his eyes studying John's every move with distrust.

John frowns slightly at this, but quickly returns to his collected and calm ruse. _It's going to be harder than I thought to bring him around.._ "You know, Dan, I apologized multiple times. I'm telling you, Ive not got an ulterior motive."

Dan narrows his eyes, "I'll believe it when I see it."

John takes a bite out of his sandwich, chewing slowly, giving himself time to think up an appropriate reply. He swallows, taking a drink of tea. "Believe what you want then, Dan, I assure you I'm a changed man." He put his left hand over his heart and held his right palm up, a convincing look of false innocence upon his face.

Dan smirked at him. "If you insist," he shrugs, "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, but you'll have to re-earn my trust."

"Don't I know it?" He smirks back, "I knew you wouldn't be easy to convince." _Not nearly as easy as Chris and Elise were to convince, anyway; your real friends are your true downfall, you'll learn that in time._ He took a few more bites of his sandwich, and some fries, washing it down with a swig of his sweet tea.

Finishing their dinner, both men stood and threw away their trash. Dan turned to him, "I think I'm ready for some of those cookies you promised me,"

"Sounds good." John smiles at him as they walk out of the restaurant, both men only slightly closer now than they had been when they started the evening. John unlocks the doors for Dan and himself with his key, and got inside the vehicle. He inserted the key in the ignition, started the vehicle, and pulled out of the parking lot and began his journey to Ninja Dave's.

Once there, they pulled into the parking lot, got out of the vehicle, and walked inside. John takes his place in line and Dan sits in a table beside a window. John takes one look at the menu, blinks in confusion, and turns around, "You'll have to tell me what to order.."

Dan gets up and joins him, sighing angrily, "Must I do everything!?" He grumbles slightly, his arms crossed over his chest, and he scans the menu. "Alright, I want a half dozen lactose free chocolate chip cookies. And, since you're not lactose intolerant, I'd suggest you try the regular ones."

John nods, "If you're so certain." He steps up to the register, "Hello, I'd like to place an order for a half dozen lactose free chocolate chip cookies and a half dozen regular chocolate chip cookies. Please put them in separate bags so I can tell which is which." The cashier, a slender Asian man with his long black bangs hanging over one eye, rings up his order, "Alright, that'll be five bucks." He glances behind him and spots Dan, who had resumed his place in the booth, "Hey, Dan, what brings you here? Are these cookies for you?"

Dan sits up straighter and peers over at him, "Hey, Ninja Dave. The lactose free cookies are mine." He pauses a moment. "John, here," he gestures at him, "-just took me out to dinner to patch things up after we had an argument a little while ago. We're here for desert." He crosses his arms in front of his chest, jutting his chin out, "Don't suppose you could throw in a soda, could you?"

Ninja Dave rings it up, "Your new total is six dollars". John pays him and sits down across from Dan, his sweet tea from dinner still in his hand. He takes a drink of it, "Why didn't you just take your drink from Burgerphile with you?"

Dan shrugs, "Didn't think of it. Not that it matters, you're paying anyway," he smirks at him.

John smiles without showing his teeth and rolls his eyes. _Of course.._ They sit in silence a few moments, awaiting the cookies he had paid for.

Breaking the silence, he speaks up, "So, Dan, I'm surprised at you. I'd expect you to be attacking me by now." John said, putting down his drink. "Guess you really meant it when you said you were letting go."

Dan shrugged, "I mean, it's been a while, I've got few reasons to still hate you."

Slightly taken aback, John was about to say something in reply, but was interrupted when Ninja Dave yelled from his place in the kitchen, "Dan, your order's ready." At this, John shut his mouth, got up from his place at the table, and walked to the counter, no longer as hard set against Dan as he had been before. He grabbed the two bags of cookies, which had been separated and marked as requested, and resumed his place across from Dan. "It's good you've let go."

"Well, yeah," Dan said, taking his bag of cookies from him and opening them up, "It's pointless to hold onto something like that. What happened in the past stays in the past, as far as I'm concerned." He bit into one of the cookies.

"That's not the word on the street," John chuckled. Biting into his first cookie, his face lit up with surprise, "Hey, these are actually really good, I guess you know how to pick your deserts."

"Hey, I didn't spend my formative years living off of teeth-rotting garbage for nothing, y'know." He smiles, showing his first true sign of good humor that evening. John's eyes widen slightly at the sight of Dan's smile, and the first inkling of doubt worked its way into his mind.

_Maybe... Maybe I don't.. want.. to do this.._


	5. Chapter 5- Friends?

**Chapter 5- Friends?**

**7:26 PM December 11th**

John smiles back at him, putting down his cookie and glancing at his watch, "Hey, it's 7:26.. Guess the time got away from us." He shrugs, "Just as well, I suppose." He picks his cookie back up, and takes another bite.

His face not nearly as distrusting or angry as it had been previously that evening, Dan speaks up, "I've got to admit, it's turned out better than I thought it would. I've not had to taze you even once." He withdrew a pocket tazer from his jeans and held it up for him to see, "It's a shame really. I brought this baby along, thinking I'd get to use it." He turns it this way and that, letting its chrome finish catch the light, admiring it like a child would a new toy. He shrugs, putting it back. "Oh well, there's always Chris for target practice." Both of them snicker at the joke.

They sit in silence for a moment as they finish up their cookies. Finishing his third cookie, Dan stood up, dusting off crumbs in the process "Guess it's time to get back home." John stood up as well, putting his cookies away in their paper bag. "Sure."

He follows Dan out of the restaurant, swinging his car keys on his finger and whistling quietly to himself, the soft moonlight casting its gentle blue aura on everything in sight. The stars shining above looked to him like fireflies suspended in place in the nighttime sky, pinpricks of light millions of miles away. He sighed, the breath escaping from his nose wafting out of sight like a miniature cloud.

"Hey, pinhead, quit stargazing and take me home." John snapped out of his awe, and walked quickly over to where Dan had been standing this entire time, watching him from the passenger side door of his truck, the look on his face unreadable, but no doubt annoyed. "Sorry, I get distracted by things like that pretty easily." He rubbed the back of his head, his face a slight shade darker, unlocking the doors with his key in the process.

Once they arrive at Dan's apartment, Dan gets out of the truck not nearly as ungracefully as he had prior, his bag of cookies swaying as he hit the ground. "This was nice; If you're not going to be such a jerk all the time, I wouldn't mind seeing you again." He stood up straighter, his arms crossed over his stomach.

"Well, look at you, opening up like that." John smiled at him from the driver's side seat, not showing his teeth, "It's an improvement, Dan. And of course I wouldn't mind doing something like this again; I'm glad this evening turned out better than you thought it would." He smirked, taking his hand off the steering wheel and looking at his nails, "Guess I'm not nearly as bad as you thought, eh?"

"You're pushing it." Dan slammed the truck door as he turned to walk away. "I guess I.. uhh.. I'll talk to you later," he said, looking over his shoulder before continuing his journey back to his apartment. He mounted the stairs, opened the door to apartment #8, and shut it behind him as he walked inside.

John watched him go, his eyes trailing along his back as shut the door to his apartment. He pulled slowly from his parking spot and began his jaunt back to Reseda.

As John left, Dan watched his truck through the slits in window blinds as it pulled out of the parking lot and drove away. He frowned to himself, and turned to Mr. Mumbles as he sat down on the couch again, "I don't know about this Mr. Mumbles.. Maybe.. he's not nearly as bad a guy as I thought he was. He was nice to me" He patted his stomach, "and I got a free dinner out of it, so that's a big plus." He smirked at her, "If he's always like this, I could see this whole friendship thing working out fairly well." He paused for a moment before continuing, "I wonder if he's rich." Mr. Mumbles meowed her approval, and Dan smiled at her, "For once I'm not in a shitty mood at the end of the day. It's been a while since I was last this calm." She crawled into his lap, rubbing her head against his chest and purring loudly. He rubbed the long fur on her neck and shoulders with his hand, a slight smile on his face all the while, as he began a new episode of Population Control Johnny.

Still in his truck, John's heart is racing, his mind is clouded and all his thoughts are swirling around in an unclear haze, _I hate him, but at the same time, I don't hate him. 'Kill him from the inside out', that's what I told myself when I hatched this plan a few days ago. No matter how much I want to, I can't just quit right off the bat.. Can I..?_ To see that a friendship with Dan was possible, and he wasn't such a jerk all the time, helped him realize how petty it was to keep harping on what had happened to them in the past. This would be stuck in his mind for at least a few days, he reckoned, until he got everything sorted out within his own subconscious.

Pulling into the parking lot of his apartment complex, and getting out of his truck, John walked into his apartment with his bag of cookies in his hand. He sat down at his couch, and took out a cookie from the bag with a faint smile on his face, remembering the conversation he had had with Dan as he tried them for the first time and Dan had broken into a smile. The thought flickers away and he bit into it, crumbs falling onto his shirt.

* * *

**11:03 AM December 12th**

A pale yellow light filters into the bedroom, and Dan blinks awake. Groggily, he sits up, yawns, and stretches. He got up from his bed, grabbing his cellphone from his bedside and a drink from his fridge, and walked into the living room. He sat down on the couch, with Mr. Mumbles hopping up alongside him. He flicked on the TV for background noise, and dialed up Chris's number. He held the phone to his ear, and after four rings he picked up,

"Chris!"

"Hey, Dan. How'd dinner go with your friend the other day?"

"It went fine, I guess." He paused for a moment before continuing, "Quit distracting me, and come over here and drive me to the pet store."

"Why do you want to go to the pet store?"

He whispers into the phone, "I want to get Mr. Mumbles a Christmas present."

"Well, I'm busy with Elise today, so I can't exactly come get you right now. Her parents are visiting, giving us our Christmas presents early this year so they don't have to come by later and 'screw up their holiday plans'." He sighs, "I know it's because of me.."

"Well, yeah, of course it's because of you," Dan said bluntly.

Ignoring him, Chris continued, "All the same, you'll have to drive yourself there."

"I wanted you to drive me so you could buy it."

"I told you, I can't. I'll talk to you later, Dan." He hangs up.

Dan frowns, and he looks down at Mr. Mumbles, "I guess it's time to scrape the bottom of the barrel.." He sighs and dials up John.

"Come get me."

"Dan? Why?"

"Chris is busy and he won't come and take me to the pet store."

"Well, as lovely as that sounds, I can't come get you either."

"WHAT!?"

As he was used to Dan's anger by now, he replied calmly, "I'm at work right now. I get off at four."

Persistent as ever, and completely undeterred, Dan continued, "Can't you just leave and get me anyway? Do you really want to be at that hellhole?"

"Well, not really.. But I don't mind it too much, and the money is good; so, I'm coming to get you at four today, no sooner and no later, and that's that." He hangs up abruptly, cutting Dan's reply off.

* * *

**4:06 PM**

Four o' clock comes around, and John puts down his headset and gets up from his cubicle. He got in the elevator, rode it to the lobby, and walked out of the building and to his truck. Getting inside, and putting the key in the ignition, he prepared to drive to Dan's place. He called him up, "I'm on my way."

"It's about time. The pet store better still be open!"

Pulling in front of the apartment complex, John notices Dan is already waiting outside by his own car, with his arms folded over his chest. He gets in alongside John, all the while grumbling under his breath, "I can't believe Chris wouldn't come get me.."

John begins driving to the pet store, "Maybe it's because you've got your own car and he thought you could drive yourself?"

"If you knew I had my own car, why did you agree to come get me?"

"I knew the real reason you called me up was because you wanted me to buy it for you. I know you're unemployed."

"Oh.. Right. Shut up and drive." He slouches in his chair, looking out the window at the buildings passing by, hiding his embarrassment the only way he knew how. "And another thing.. If you knew I was going to have you buy it, why would you come?"

"Because, I don't spend much money on myself; I hardly ever treat myself to nice things. My job is high paying, and I've also got a sizable inheritance collecting dust in the bank;" He shrugs, and smirks, glancing at Dan out of the corner of his eye, "I've got some pocket change to spare."

Dan's eyes widened and he turned to face him, "So, does that mean you're rich?"

John parallel parked in front of the pet store, before replying, "In a nutshell, yes. And I told you that it'd be nice to see you again, didn't I?"

Dan shrugs, "I get that." He continues, matter-of-factly, "Why wouldn't you? I'm awesome."

He smirks at John before climbing out of the vehicle; catching his boot on the edge of the doorway and falling flat on his face in the process. John walks over to where he had fallen and looks down at him, not offering him any help, "So, tell me, how does the ground smell?" He smirks, biting back laughter, but after seeing the look on Dan's face, he quickly corrected his tone as best he could, "Are you ok?"

Dan stood up, dusted himself off, and frowned at him, "I'm fine, thanks for all your 'help'."

John stands there, coolly, "If you've not noticed, I'm a bit of a jerk."

"Oh trust me," he stepped toward the pet store, checking the time on the door, "I've noticed.."

John walked after him, peering over his shoulder and reading aloud from what was etched into the glass door, "Open from 8 AM- 5 PM Mon-Fri, Closed from December 20th through January 3rd for the Holidays."

"Good, it's open." Dan barged into the pet store, frightening some of the birds by the door and sending them into frenzies of squawking. They walk up to the counter, where a balding man with grey hair and a mustache is behind the register, "Can I help you gentlemen?"

"Yes, please," Dan answered, "I need to get a Christmas present for my cat."

"I see. What do you have in mind?"

"Well, what do you have?"

"Hmm.. Let me look in the back.." He departs from behind the counter and walks to the back of the store, a wall separating him from view. "There's this," he says, returning with a small portion of what looked to be a cake of meat. "It's a hand-crafted catfood cake, made of the finest ground liver, beef, fish, and turkey available," He proclaimed proudly. "The icing is made of pureed tuna."

Dan looks it over, his eyes sparkling, "Really? How much is it?".

"Two hundred dollars."

John walked away from them while they did business, and began to browse through some of the misfit kittens for purchase in glass display cases in the middle of the store. He reached inside one of the displays while the clerk was preoccupied, and picked up a black, white, and orange calico with blue eyes. He couldn't resist breaking into a smile at its sleepy-eyed demeanor and soft mew of surprise at being held. He cradled it in his arms, stroking its soft fur. It mewed once again in his ear while he was holding it in his arms, and he bit his lip, a smile playing on his face. It swatted at his goatee with its tiny paw and he giggled.

Back at the counter, Dan hatched a plan. "Ok. I'll take it. But, first, could you please get a garnish of your finest catnip to go with this?"

"That'll be an extra ten bucks for the highest quality catnip I've got," the man warned as he walked to the back of the store.

Dan watched him as he went, making sure he was completely out of sight, and he grabbed the cake, ran out of the store, and hopped into the truck. John looked up upon seeing Dan rush by, and he put down the calico with a frown of regret, and rushed after him. _Here we go.._ He got into the vehicle, with the shopkeeper close on his heels, and he quickly sped away. After a few seconds, his curiosity got the better of him and, turning to Dan, he asked, "What was that about?"

Dan held up the small portion of cake proudly, "This is why.~"

John glanced at him disapprovingly, "You stole it, didn't you?"

Dan nods, a mischievous smile written on his face, "Sure did. Got a problem with that?"

"Well, it's a bit late if I do." John shook his head, his eyes still on the road, "And you wonder why you can't get a job anywhere.."

"Hey, theft has nothing to do with getting a job."

"If you say so, Dan-o. What're you going to do with it, though? Isn't it a bit early to be giving out Christmas presents?"

"Simple. I'm going to give it to her now and say that it's because I don't know when I'll next get a chance to go out and get her something." He shrugs, balancing the cake on his legs, "Now, drive me home." He stared silently out the car window at the Los Angeles skyline as it panned slowly by the vehicle, and he remembered an advertisement he had seen the previous day. He turned to John, "You know.. the other day I saw this ad on a billboard.. 'Friday the 13th Slash-fest special'. A bunch of horror movies from the 70's and 90's will be playin' tomorrow from 6-10 PM at the movie theatre. It's half price, too. You interested?"

John sat up in his chair, "Why don't you ask Chris?"

"Chris doesn't like horror movies."

"Then, sure. Why not." He smiled, "We'll make a night of it." With that, he pulled in front of the apartment complex and let Dan out of the vehicle, "See you around six t'morrow, Dan." He winked roguishly at him and drove away into the night.


	6. Chapter 6- Dan Vs Friday the 13th

**A/N**- Please note that I have never seen any slasher movie whatsoever. The knowledge I have was gained from watching clips on youtube and Q&A sessions I had with my dad (who won't let me watch the movies, anyway, but has seen many of them himself). As a result, a large portion of the information provided in this chapter is either inaccurate or made up, so please don't hold me accountable for my errors in authenticity. The scene where the murderer comes into the theatre, and everything to do with him, is also made up. It is not based on any movie I have ever seen or heard of, so if you notice any similarities it is purely coincidental.

Enjoy.

Please note this chapter contains minor descriptions of blood, gore, and destruction. If you're uncomfortable with such subjects, this is the warning I'm giving you.

* * *

**Chapter 6- Dan Vs. Friday the 13th**

**6:00 PM December 13th**

Dan is sitting in his living room, as per the norm, in the midst of a new episode of Population Control Johnny. He's got Mr. Mumbles in his lap purring up a storm and his mind is on anything but the horror-fest movie night he had planned with John. He took a swig of his special 'lactose-free' milk and a bite of some leftover cookies he had forgotten about from the previous night, as he watched the murdersome Mr. Johnny rip through a town of unsuspecting head hunters in Africa. "Well, that's what you get for skewering peoples' heads on poles for the world to see, right Mr. Mumbles?" He shrugged, put down his milk and cookies, and stroked her fur with his hand, winding it through his fingers. He leaned down and kissed her on top of the head, "I love you, Mr. Mumbles." He smiled down at her and continued watching his show, oblivious to the time.

John stood in front of the mirror in his apartment, taking off his tie and putting his pen down alongside it on his dresser. The only lamp in the room cast an orange-yellow glow upon the bed, bedframe, and floor. He picked up his comb, which he had brought from his bathroom, and wound it through his hair. He smirked at his reflection, grabbed his truck keys, turned out the light, and strutted from the house. _Looks like everything is going according to plan._ Getting into his truck, he began the drive to Dan's apartment, completely confident at this point that a friendship with him would be far more rewarding than a double-cross.

A few minutes later, Dan is in the middle of a light nap, having nodded off during a particularly quiet commercial break. A knock at the door sounds, and he jolts awake and leaps up from his place on the couch, disrupting Mr. Mumbles's nap. He stumbles to the door, frowning all the while. Once he opens it and he sees John, he is immediately wide awake with realization, "Oh.. Was that movie thing today?"

John stands there coolly, a smirk on his face, "Yeah. Did you forget?"

"No, of course not.." He lied, walking back into his apartment. He picked up the remote and turned off the tv before spinning on his heel and following John out the door. "You like horror movies, right?"

"You kidding? Of course I do!" John laughed at his question, "I've not seen more than a few, granted, but I did like the ones I saw." He unlocked the doors to his truck and stepped inside, inserting the key in the ignition and shifting into reverse. Backing out of the parking place, he turned to Dan as he corrected the vehicle's direction, "So tell me, what movies are we seeing this evening?"

Dan shrugged, "Just two. They're both two hours long. I could sit through more, but I'm sure you'd be ready to leave by then."

John rolled his eyes, and then agreed with him, "You're probably right. Ten o'clock is kinda late, anyway. Afterward, wanna catch some dinner?"

"Sure, Burgerphile sounds good."

"How'd I know that'd be what you suggested." He chuckled to himself as he pulled into the parking lot of the movie theatre, where a small crowd of cosplaying Slasher movie fans were standing around in small groups, conversing amongst themselves before walking into the movie theatre. Some were wielding plastic chainsaws, while still others wielded gleaming butcher knives. Some wore hockey masks, while others wore war paint. Fake blood, ripped overalls, and plaid shirts were a given. Almost everyone there was wearing something of the sort. John and Dan got out of the truck and walked into the movie theatre, glancing at the cosplayers out the corner of their eyes. They exchanged glances and shrugged as they walked into the theatre. "Guess we're overdressed," Dan said, stretching out his shirt with both his hands.

John smiled at him, "Does overdressing include the stains you've got?"

"Very funny," He launched right into an insult, "You look like a tax collector, like you're walking in here to talk people to death with your jargon and then steal their wallets while they're dying on the floor." He crossed his arms over his stomach.

John laughed, "That's pretty much what telemarketers are paid to do, only there's a lot less confrontations.."

They both walk up to the ticket counter, where a somewhat lengthy line was already beginning to form. John stood there patiently while Dan trotted off with a few quarters in hand to investigate the miniature arcade in the corner of the movie theatre. After a twenty-game-consecutive winning streak at one of the racing game simulators, Dan got bored and walked back to join John, who was finally getting their tickets. He held them up in front of Dan and handed one to him, "As promised, your very own Slasher-fest movie ticket."

Dan fake-curtsied, "Thank you, my good man," and accepted the ticket. Together, they walked to the snack line, and John bought them both popcorn and soda. Dan's, of course, didn't have butter. One of the employees working behind the register had the radio tuned to the news. The broadcaster, a suave-yet boring- sounding man, was saying something about escaped inmates from a nearby jail. Noone paid any mind to his blathering and continued going on about their business. The two men picked up their respective drinks and boxes of popcorn and walked to the attendant watching over the entrance to the movie hall, a boxy young woman with curly blonde hair and glasses; she took one look at their tickets and allowed them to pass. Dan grabbed John by the wrist and dragged him over to a particular favorite screening of his, Chainsaw Bloodbath.

They walked inside the room, which was about half-filled with people, and chose seats near the top. They sat in silence for about 40 minutes, watching the plot unfold and the murderer in the movie tear through an unsuspecting orphanage with his trusty chainsaw.

Meanwhile, in the lobby of the theatre, a situation was beginning to unfold. A large, broad-shouldered man has forced his way into the theatre, demanding money. He's still wearing the tattered orange jumpsuit, marked "Inmate #376", he had been wearing when he broke out of prison an hour or so earlier. He's wielding a stolen chainsaw from a department store, and wearing a new hockey mask. He revs the chainsaw in the air, its mechanical whirring filling the room with a sense of foreboding and dread. He doesn't wait for his demands to be fulfilled, and instead he charges at the clerk behind the counter, who narrowly dodges the deadly spinning blades before running out of the theatre, screaming his head off. Every other movie attendant and patron who had witnessed the scene follows suit, and a mild panic ensues. The customers left in the movie rooms haven't heard the extent of the commotion yet, and most patrons in the farther rooms are oblivious to the danger.

Back at Chainsaw Bloodbath, some of the customers have heard the screams of panic from outside, and are getting uneasy. Some are whispering amongst themselves, saying things like, "Are you sure they're just watching a movie..?" and "Those didn't sound like sound effects.." Dan sits up in his chair, his shoulders tense. Finally, he can't take their whispering any longer and he leaps up from his chair, his popcorn in his arms. "LISTEN HERE, JERKFACES. I'm _trying_ to watch my movie! So, if the movie is scaring you that bad and you can't get ahold of yourselves, be my guest and show yourselves out. There's the door." Everyone turns around to glare at him, and he pauses momentarily before adding, "But do it quietly, 'cause it's just getting to the good part.."

As he finished his sentence, the whirring of a chainsaw fills the room. Dan scratches his head, still watching the screen, and he says, "Well, that's new. I could've swore the jump scare in this scene was a few minutes later." Everyone else, ignoring him at this point, is staring in horror at the movie box, where the attendant in charge of the film reel is screaming uncontrollably. Blood splatters against the glass window as the film being projected onto the screen is shredded into confetti; and within seconds, the attendant's screams are silenced forever. Still standing, Dan stares at the screen, trying to make sense of it all. One of the customers screams and runs out of the room. Everyone else stares, transfixed, at the gore and blood splattered like bad special effects on the window behind him. After a few seconds, they all snap to their senses and all-out panic ensues. People climbed over chairs and each other, and some were shrieking and running to and fro.

John, too, leaps up from his chair and grabs Dan by the wrist and pulls him from the room. His voice is taught, and anxious when he speaks, "C'mon, Dan, we've got to get out of here before something worse happens.."

Behind them, the masked murderer's chainsaw slices into electrical wires and the resulting smoke filters into the room from the air vents. Sparks fly inside of the movie box, and small flames take hold.

Dan nods in agreement, his eyes wide with fear and surprise, as he runs with John outside of the theatre. He's still got his popcorn safely cradled in his arms.

John runs alongside him and gestures at his truck, which was parked a few meters away, "We've got to get out of here; get in the truck!" The once small flames flickering inside of the movie box of Chainsaw Bloodbath have spread to the rest of the theatre and are now licking hungrily up its sides and billowing smoke out of the building.

Dan stays silent for a moment, and he slows to a slow walk. "Wait, what am I doing? That guy didn't let me finish my movie!" He turns around, and another panicked customer, a larger man, runs past them, shoving Dan into the ground and crushing his popcorn beneath his foot in the process, scattering the shattered kernels across the ground.

Sitting up from his newfound place on the ground, Dan shook his fist in the air as he screamed at the top of his lungs, "FRIDAY THE THIRTEENNNTTHHH!"

John towered over him, "Ok, Dan, now's not the time for that. Get up, we've got to get out of here!"

"Not right now, that jerkface sliced up my movie while I was in the middle of watching it!" He gets up, dusting himself off, and pulling up his shirt sleeves as he began walking back toward the burning building.

"Hang on there. I'm as upset as the next guy that we didn't get to finish the movie, but you know what he did to that movie attendant! If we went back in there, we'd surely meet the same fate, be burnt alive, or both. Going back at this point would be suicide!" John begins walking back to the vehicle, "If you want revenge, you'll have to wait until certain death isn't guaranteed."

Dan pushes back down his shirt sleeves, and uncrossed his arms as he followed him, "I guess you're right. But someone needs to take this guy down a notch."

John unlocks the doors to the vehicle and they both step inside, "Nevermind that. For now, the best thing you could do is call the police." They both buckle their seatbelts.

"The police don't take my calls anymore."

"That's fine, then. I'll just call them myself." He drove away form the scene at a steady pace until they were several miles from the theatre. He pulled up on the curb, and took out his cellphone from his pocket. He dialed 911, "Hello, I'd like to report a murder I just witnessed. Yes, someone broke into the theatre a few blocks down the road and killed a man with a chainsaw. The building also caught fire." He paused, his ear still pressed to the phone, and he spoke once again when the operator finished their sentence, "We are safely away from the theatre, now. But, we witnessed everything." On the other line, the operator confirmed the location John had described and dispatched officers and firefighters to take care of the issue at hand. John hung up the phone and turned to Dan, "At least when they broadcast an artist's rendering of the man you'll know what he looks like."

Dan shrugged, "Maybe. But you know how inaccurate those things are. Besides, you should also know how stingy the police are with information, they probably won't tell us much about what's going on here. We'll have to do some digging around of our own.

John stared at him, almost at a loss for words, "And how do you propose we do that?"

"I'll explain later. But for now, drive us to Mike's Costume Emporium."

"What do we need from there, exactly?" John asked as he shifted into first gear and pulled away from the curb.

"Oh," Dan snickers to himself, a plan of action already forming in his mind, "I'll know it when I see it."


	7. Chapter 7- Plans and Impersonation

**A/N**- Took a little break from writing the gory stuff. I'll pick that back up in the next chapter or so. ;)

Also, I know the dialogue between Dan and the policeman isn't entirely believable. But, the ones in the show were fairly incompetent. I'm trying to draw on that. ;P Besides, I don't know any crime/police jargon. ^^;

* * *

**Chapter 7- Plans and Impersonation**

**7:26 PM December 13th**

John drives them in silence, the radio muted and conversation at a standstill; within a short amount of time, they arrive at their destination. He pulls into the parking lot of Mike's Costumes, a shady little costume store on the corner of its street, and he and Dan both get out of the truck. John walks to Dan's side and looks up at the looming building with a small pit of uncertainty in his stomach. Dan looked up at him, rolling his eyes at the look on his face, and walked past him and into the store. John stood there, reading the store's slogan, _We all want to be somebody else_, and thinking to himself, _Isn't that the truth.._ His thought trailed off, and after a few more seconds of watching the building, John walks inside after Dan, glancing up warily at the fiberglass arachnid and masquerade mask attached to its sign as he walked in the door.

Dan has already found himself in the back of the store, and he is browsing through various discarded costumes. He reaches inside a cardboard box and picks up an oversized black, brown, and red checked deerstalker and placed it upon his head. He then rummages in a nearby coat rack, eventually withdrawing a dark brown inverness coat and matching cape from it. He puts both of them on, and wearing half of his costume, he walks to another cardboard box and rummages around, tossing out various minor accessories. A masquerade mask sails over his shoulder, followed by a packaged eyepatch. A pair of Groucho Marx glasses hits John smack in the face and he glares in Dan's direction, "Hey, watch where you're throwing that stuff! You just hit me in the face!"

Ignoring him, Dan proudly proclaims, "Aha!" and reaches deep inside the box and pulls out a fake mustache, bushy and brown, and a pipe. Having found what he was looking for, Dan turned around victoriously, wearing his now-complete costume. He smirked in John's direction, "Detective Dan, the city's prized investigator, at your service." He bows low, and his hat fell off of his head. He stooped down, scooped it up, and held it.

John stares at him, "Hang on, what?"

Dan stands there, returning his hat to his head, and crossing his arms over his chest, "Here's what we're going to do, we go there, pretending to be professional investigators. Ask questions, take notes, and solve this crime for ourselves. Here," he picks up the cardboard box and shoves it into John's arms, "pick yourself something presentable, something a side kick would wear. Then, drive me to my house. I've got a tranq gun we could use to subdue him, and I've got heavy chains and a padlock leftover from my Burgerphile protest a few months ago that we could use to chain him up when we drive him to the police station."

John listens to his plan, but he can't help but present his queries, "Sounds like a good plan.. But, tell me, how do you plan on finding this guy?"

Dan shrugs, "Learn his name or, if he was an escaped inmate, his inmate number. Then go up to the jail, say we're working on the case and we need the information. They'll give us the file, and I'm sure there's information in there somewhere about his past residence. If I got out of jail, the first place I'd like to go would be back home."

John narrows his eyes, his voice low and dangerous, "I would know, Dan. You don't have to remind me."

"Well, I actually wasn't referencing that, but ok." He shrugged, and then tossed a brown inverness cloak at John. It landed over his head and it stayed there.

From underneath the cloak, John muttered under his breath in annoyance, "What is this for, exactly?"

"It's part of your disguise. If you're not going to pick something, I'm going to choose for you." With that, Dan sauntered away from John and to another coat rack across the store. There, he picked up some brown dress pants, a white undershirt, a black bowtie, and a brown overcoat. He placed them on top of the cloak, which was still draped across John's head, "Here, put these on. You can keep your boots."

Now sounding even more annoyed, John spoke from underneath the growing pile of clothing, his voice muffled, "Who am I supposed to be?"

"My faithful sidekick and expendable assistant. Now, quit asking questions and put that stuff on. You look ridiculous, just standing there with it on top of your head."

John sighed in annoyance, taking the clothes from the pile on top of his head, and turned away from Dan and walked into the changing room. There, he undressed, put his old clothes in a big brown paper bag (compliments of the store), and donned his costume. He pushed aside the curtains of the dressing room and strutted out, feeling somewhat ridiculous yet dapper at the same time. He rummaged around in a nearby box and withdrew a monocle. Squinting in the mirror, he placed it over his eye. Turning, he picked up a top hat from a rack and donned it. He grabbed a lacquered mahogany cane, topped with cubic zirconium. Now feeling very classy, he turned to Dan, his cloak swishing romantically behind him. He smirked, "So. How do I look?"

Dan stared at him, his jaw wide open. He could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. He looked him up and down, making sure everything was in order, and he smirked, "You look nice." Turning away from him, and hiding the growing redness in his face, Dan sauntered up to the front of the store. There, the clerk rang up their costumes, which totaled to one hundred fifty three dollars and seventy six cents.

The cashier, a tan, brunette-haired woman, took one look at Dan and couldn't resist chipping in a comment, "Hey pal, you sunburnt or something?"

Dan narrowed his eyes at her, "What kind of stupid question is that?!"

John walked up beside Dan and his once sour frown dissolved into an amused smirk at the cashier's comment and Dan's snide reply. He turned to Dan and looked at him, taking in his face. He takes note of Dan's blushing, but sidesteps the situation, momentarily, and teases him instead, "You're lucky I'm rich."

"Sure, let's call it luck." Dan said under his breath as he turned away from John and walked out of the store, ignoring the fact that he was being studied. _Was I blushing back there!? Get ahold of yourself, that guy ruined your life! He.. wouldn't want you like that.. Just. No._ He stood by the truck, his arms crossed over his stomach, awaiting John's arrival and the doors being unlocked.

John rested his arms on the counter, "So tell me.. Why did you ask him if he was sunburnt?"

The cashier giggles, "Oh, I know it's not sunny enough right now for him to be sunburned, I was just teasing him because he was ten shades of scarlet. Didn't you see his face?"

John laughs, his own face feeling slightly warmer, "Yeah. I did." He handed her the money and sauntered out of the store, his original clothes in the brown paper bag clutched at his side. He unlocked the doors for himself and Dan with his key and then got into the vehicle. He started the engine and buckled up his seatbelt. Then, shifting into first gear, he began the drive to Dan's apartment. He turns to him slightly, keeping his eyes on the road, "So, what do we need from your apartment again?"

Dan glances at him, his arms still crossed over his stomach, but his face no longer red, "We need to pick up my tranquilizer gun. We also need to get a notepad and a pen to take notes on."

John raised an eyebrow, "What about the one you always carry with you?"

"Revenge and notes shouldn't be on the same list."

"If you say so."

They continued the drive in silence, eventually coming to a stop in front of Dan's apartment complex. They hopped out of the vehicle, both of them slamming the doors behind themselves, and they mounted the stairs leading up to room number eight. Dan unlocked the door and allowed John to enter the apartment first. Entering the room, and stepping over various bits of rubbish, he put his clothes beside Dan's couch, "I hope it's ok that I leave this here until we're done with this whole 'masked murderer' nonsense we got dragged into."

Virtually ignoring him, Dan replied absentmindedly, "Yeah, yeah, whatever," and strode past him into his bedroom. There, he dug out the tranquilizer gun from his closet, and a few non-lethal tranquilizer arrows in a quiver. He strung them over his back, grabbing a spare notepad he saw out of the corner of his eye, and walked out of the bedroom. He stood in the doorway, watching John pet Mr. Mumbles, who was purring on her back at his feet. He smirked to himself, and after a few seconds of watching them, he strode into the room, his cloak swaying behind him. "Ready to go?" He swung the quiver of tranquilizer arrows over his shoulder.

John stood up, "Yeah." Together, they walked out of the door, and Dan locked it behind them. They walked down the concrete steps outside the apartment complex, the light from the streetlights casting its pale white aura on everything in sight. They got into the truck, and John started it once again and drove them both back to the theatre, where a small crowd of civilians, burn victims, and various law enforcement personale and emergency first responders were gathering. In the background of the scene, the smoldering remnants of the theatre simmered and smoked.

John parked the vehicle on the curb across the street, and both he and Dan walked towards the scene in their phony costumes, looking every inch like they belonged in the early 1900's. Dan sauntered up to the buffest policeman he saw, and launched right into his speech he had prepared, "Detective Dan, world renowned investigator. I was in town on vacation and I heard on the news that you were having some trouble with masked murderers and chainsaws."

"Really now, 'Detective'?" The policeman studied him incredulously.

Dan reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a fake policeman's badge he had swiped from the costume store (unbeknownst to John, there was also one in his pocket, too) and held it right underneath the policeman's nose, "Besides, wise guy, you didn't let me finish! One of the people they named on the list of the dead was my nephew. This is personal for me, otherwise I wouldn't be interested. Best part for you, you no good cheapskate, is I won't charge ya a dime."

The policeman straightened up, and frowned, "I'm sorry for your loss, sir."

Dan nodded at him, "Apology accepted. Now, tell me, what are we up against here?" He leaned in, but the policeman was too busy studying John with a critical eye to begin handing out information.

"Who's this clown?"

"Him?" Dan looked up at John, "That's my sidekick. Don't mind him."

The policeman nodded his polite acknowledgement and started listing off information to Dan. He gave him a file, marked "Inmate #376", and upon sight of the label, Dan's eyes widened considerably. He knew already who they were dealing with, even before he opened the file and saw the trademark overalls and hockey mask of the man in the mugshot. The policeman spoke up, "Several witnesses saw this man, known most famously as "the Hockey Mask Maniac", break into the movie theatre earlier this same evening." He gestures at the ashes behind them, which were still smoking. "We relocated him to a new prison, one with tighter security, after his escape from the last prison he was at. Noone knows how he managed his escape this time." He shrugged. "When we catch him again, we're moving him to maximum security."

He paused, weighing his words before he continued, "It's predicted he's the one behind all of this, the one who started the fire, and the one who killed the movie attendant in the box of Chainsaw Bloodbath. We've got officers scouring the neighborhood, trying to bring him back into custody. We talked to the prison warden earlier this evening, they said that he was the only one to escape."

Dan nodded, pretending to be completely unfamiliar with the man. He accepted the file, leafing through the various documents contained within it. "He'll be locked up again by the end of the night."

"Are you sure about that, sir?"

"As sure as I've ever been."

The policeman stood up, "Well, if you need any more information you let us know, sir. The policemen of LA are only here to help." With that, he walked away, joining fellow policemen interviewing the family of the attendant killed earlier that evening.

* * *

**Update (1-13-2014)**- Decided I won't be quitting on this story, but at the same time I won't be continuing with it as it is (if that makes any sense). I hope to rewrite this, steering it in an entirely new direction sometime in the coming month or so. Please bear with me, if it ever gets done, I promise I will be posting it as soon as possible.


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